Of the Dead and Lonely
by Captive
Summary: I grab him suddenly. I shake him, unable to control my body. “You know what happened, don’t you?” I beat him in the chest. I want to destroy him, like I’ve been destroyed. [One Shot: DMHG]


**Of the Dead and Lonely  
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** Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Only the Plot

**Summary: **I grab him suddenly. I shake him, unable to control my body. "You know what happened, don't you?" I beat him in the chest. I want to destroy him, like I've been destroyed. (Draco and Hermione)

**-Note-**

Another angsty one-shot. I wrote this a while ago actually, but never got the chance to put it up. This was inspired by the Disturbed song, 'Remember' and includes fragmented time. Parts of the story take place in the present and the rest in the past. Look for present and past tense to distinguish between them. I've also included my favorite little piece of the song in the beginning.

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**Of the Dead and Lonely**

Sensation washes over me I can't describe it  
Pain I felt so long ago  
I don't remember  
Tear a hole so I can see  
My devastation  
Feelings from so long ago  
I don't remember

I pause when I feel his gaze on my back. I could always feel him, in a way even I don't understand. I turn my head a fraction and perceive his imposing figure from the corner of my eye. His features are blurred to me, but I know he's watching; always watching.

I turn my head back and pretend I haven't noticed. My eyes lower to the files before me and my hands resume their activity. But he had noticed the pause. I know he noticed the pause.

I browse the contents of the file, turning the pages and scanning the words, but none of it makes sense; none of it comes together to form ideas, because I'm not really reading the documents. I can't when he is standing behind me, daring me to acknowledge him.

I sigh and stop my movements. I don't know how else to fight. I don't have the energy. I turn to face him, and he is staring intently at me, just as I knew he would be.

Cold eyes. That's his most striking feature. They are what separate him from the rest. They are what warn others to be cautious of him; making the timid take an involuntary step backwards.

I hold his gaze, because to look away is to show fear. And, he can't know of my fear. He doesn't deserve that.

_Say something_, I plead, feeling the pressure of the silence grip me. I can't speak first, because I have nothing to say to this man whom I've never trusted. He was one of us now, they all told me. He was a hero, they said. But that doesn't matter. The insults of our childhood are still there, irrepressible by the mind.

"Granger," he says, with a small nod, as if passing a causal acquaintance on the street. I say nothing. "Still looking for answers, I see," he continues, glancing down at the files in my hands.

"Yes," I reply evenly, clutching the papers to my chest. It's an instinctively defensive move that draws a low chuckle from him. It must be amusing to him to see me afraid but pretending not to be. Anger flares at the realization.

"The war is over, Granger. There's no reason for you to keep searching," he says, indicating towards the files; my only leads.

"You wouldn't understand," I mumble.

That's what I tell them all, when they favor me with their pitying gazes. But I don't want their pity. And I certainly don't want his. But I realize, as I look into his calm, grey eyes, that he shows none.

I tell myself it is better that way.

"Enlighten me," he says simply, playing with me; mocking my obsession. "Tell me why you need to resurrect old, dead things that do not matter anymore." He smirks, infuriating me, causing the rage to overpower the fear.

"You think it doesn't matter?" I ask; my teeth clenched, my breath controlled.

"He's dead, Granger. And no one remembers him anymore."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I worry about you, Harry"

"Don't," he responded easily.

"It's a dangerous assignment." I persisted.

"They're all dangerous assignments, Hermione."

No response to that. No worthy argument. I sighed, shaking my head at his careless nature.

"You will be careful, won't you?"

Harry paused, finally looking to me; perhaps seeing my concern, perhaps seeing nothing.

"Of course I'll be careful. Don't worry about me, Hermione. I can take care of myself." Another easy grin. I wasn't reassured.

"These are dangerous Deatheaters, Harry, and there'll be many of them. I don't see how the Ministry could just send you in so soon after…"

"Hermione," he stated firmly, stopping my words, "I'll be fine. There will be others going with me. I won't be alone."

"It's okay to grieve, Harry," I said, reaching over calmly to take his hand. I felt his fingers go rigid in my grasp. He withdrew; back into his memories, back into denial.

"I'm fine!" He snapped, pulling away completely.

I withdrew also. I didn't bring it up again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

My breath is coming out in angry gasps now. My fingers are turning white from clutching the files so tightly. Why does he play with me? Why can he break me with a few simple words?

"Those who loved him remember him still," I state, fighting the urge for violence. "You wouldn't understand that."

"Yes," he agrees calmly, "I wouldn't understand that."

There's no mocking expression on his face, and I stare at this stranger, confusion distracting the anger.

No, I remind myself, don't pity him.

He says nothing. I say nothing. I stare at him because I can't look away; because I can't understand him. He stares back because I must fascinate him in some way also. I try to convince myself that that is the reason.

"What do you really want, Malfoy?" I ask, my voice coming out quieter than I would have liked, more defeated.

He pauses, turning his head a little to the side, breaking the contact.

"They're all concerned about you," he states finally, still staring off to the side rather than at me. "It's a cold case, Granger, and you have been working on it for the past 3 years." He turns back to me, and I see the pity he lacked before.

_No_, I think, _don't_.

The air grows a little hotter. I can't breathe; the room's too small. I see the pity in his eyes. I see the thoughts in his mind. Mad; they must all think me a little mad. I must be, to hold on to something for this long. But I can't bring myself to see what they see. I can't let Harry down; because, I am the only one who remembers him still. Malfoy knew it. I know it now.

"Hermione..." he ventures, testing my name on his tongue, "let this go."

I blink back the tears that are gathering at the corners of my eyes.

I shake my head no.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Harry!" I called out. He paused, wand raised, an instant away from disappearing.

I ran to him, threw my arms around his neck; clutched him close. I breathed him in, hiding my face against his shoulder.

"Don't go," I mumbled, my lips pressed against his cloak. "Don't go," I repeated, pleading then; desperate.

Harry laughed; his attempt to lighten the situation. "I'll be fine, Hermione, really."

"What if something happens? I can't lose you both. Please don't make me lose you both." Tears fell. I didn't even know when they started.

He turned my face up to look at him. "It's alright, Hermione. We'll look after each other. Bill knows what he's doing. And Malfoy… he may be a git but he's quick with the wand. I'll be fine, really," he said again, smiling, carelessly.

That's what Ron had said. They all believed themselves invincible.

Gently, he detangled my arms from his neck. With a nudge, he pushed me away.

"I'll see you soon, Hermione," he said simply.

"Good-bye, Harry," I responded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He looks a little scared now. The tears must frighten him. The lack of control must frighten him.

I look away. I step to the side, and try to walk past. His hand comes out unexpectedly to stop me.

"Hermione," he says, his hand resting on my shoulder. I tense at the contact. "Why are you doing this?"

I don't know why anymore. I don't know why I spend my days searching for _something_; some sort of lead, some clue as to what happened. But I can't admit that, not to him.

"I need to know who killed him," I answer instead.

"The case has been closed, Hermione. The war ended three years ago." More pity. More of what I don't need. Such sympathy in his voice.

"Tell me what you know," I say, turning to him. It's not the first time I've asked.

He sighs, jaw clenched, eyes diverted. "I told you, Hermione. I didn't see what happened."

Yes, that is what he told me, years ago, after he carried Harry's body back in his arms. Another failed mission. Another obstacle for our side.

"Tell me what you did see," I demand tensely.

He looks back at me, trying to comprehend my thoughts, trying to break through the madness.

"It's no use, Hermione. Let dead things rest."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I pushed through the crowd. There he was, laying still. He had promised to be careful. I was all alone.

"Calm down, Hermione. Are you all right?" Someone was speaking, I couldn't tell who. Was I not calm? I didn't understand. I couldn't breathe.

Arms lifted me. I clung on.

_No, don't take me away from Harry_, I thought. But they were patting me on the back, telling me I'd be alright. They weren't listening. They didn't understand.

"We're going to get you and Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital now. Everything will be fine."

Malfoy? But where was Malfoy? How did he survive?

Things became blurry, then black, then nothing.

I awoke within white walls. Malfoy lay in the bed next to mine.

"You look worse off than me, Granger," he said, teasing me as he used to. His laugh was weak. I didn't laugh at all.

My head spun. The room was too bright. What was Malfoy doing here?

The memories crept back, hitting me, breaking me. "What happened out there?" I asked suddenly, pushing myself up, wide awake.

He didn't say anything for a moment. My breathing grew haggard in the silence. "Things didn't go as planned," he said tensely. He didn't elaborate. I persisted.

"How… how did he die?" I needed to know. I didn't want to know.

He sighed, tired, bitter. "I didn't see what happened," he said finally, looking out the window. "It wasn't supposed to be like that, you know. We were just going in to spy. I don't understand…" He broke off, distracted by his own demons.

"What happened to Bill?" I disrupted him, almost sorry to do it.

"Dead, all dead. He's body was too far," He shook his head, looking down at his hands, "I couldn't get to it."

Yes, all dead. I was left behind.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I grab him suddenly. I shake him, unable to control my body. "You know what happened, don't you?" I beat him in the chest. I want to destroy him, like I've been destroyed. "You've known all along and you won't tell me! You selfish bastard! Tell me! TELL ME!"

I scream, I rave. He stands there, taking it all.

My energy runs out, my limbs slacken. My voice cracks, broken by sobs.

His arms come around me and I struggle for a moment. He holds on tighter, firmer. No more energy to fight. No more energy to care.

I grab the front of his robes, feeling the silk between my fingers. So warm in his arms; so secure. I look up at him, tilting my head back. _He must know something,_ the stubborn thought forms.

He looks down at me. But I can't really see him. His lips touch mine. I don't fight back. I can't fight back. So soft, so sweet; nothing like his eyes.

He pulls away, and I stand dazed, shaking. "We're the only ones left," he murmurs.

_Yes, all alone._

"Let the past be, Hermione."

Can't. Won't.

"Tell me what you remember," I ask as I've done so many times before.

He turns his face to the side, so that I see only his profile. He doesn't talk about that day, and I'm forcing him. I worry that I've pushed him too far. I fear that he will pull away. But he doesn't. He only stands before me; statuesque, beautiful.

"We were cloaked, disguised as they were." His voice began low, tired. "We were wandering amongst them, trying to obtain what we could. Bill was hit first. I don't even know how we were found out." The words begin tumbling out faster, more desperate. "A curse was thrown at me. I didn't even see it coming. Harry saw. He pushed me to the side. I landed on the ground, out of the way." He stops suddenly, breathing haggard. He grabs me by the shoulders, forcing my eyes to meet his. "I saw him fall, Hermione. I saw him die from a curse that was meant for me."

He stops again. He brings a hand to his face, as if trying to rub away the tiredness, the memories.

"I brought him back, Hermione. I had to bring him back."

I reach out and take him into my arms. What else can I do? I lay a kiss on his cheek, along his jaw line, on his lips. I hold him tightly, like I held Harry right before he left.

"It's okay," I try weakly, "it's alright. Let the past go."

He turns his gaze back to me suddenly; intense, burning. "Will you?" He asks, watching me, waiting.

I nod my head slowly. I pull him close.

I let old ghosts die.

_End._

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-_**Note**-

Not sure how I feel about this One shot. I think I rather liked _A Million Petty Souls_ and _Violently it Changes_ better. But I needed to switch off writing styles again just to practice my skills.

Well anyway, hope you got the tragic vibe I was going for, and please Review! I'd love to hear from you.

-Captive


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